Bone-Tired
by solista
Summary: Being bone-tired is more than physical. Rules and 'tune-callin' a way of family.


Bone-Tired

He was bone-tired, not just the over use of underused muscles or the dehydration from the constant too hot sun. This was also a tired from emotional drainage, having to draw from deep inside himself, to pull from his internal strength to find a peace with physical outside forces and his mental daemons… to find a balance.

Looking up from swinging the saddle onto the top rail of the corral, he could see the golden horse pound over the pasture heading at a full gallop towards the compound.

Bent low over the neck of the strong gelding was a contrast to the golden color of the horse, a deep red shirt, black leather pants with silver studs down the legs and hat held on by storm strings was his younger brother.

Scott Lancer frowned; the boy would not listen to advice given freely and with knowledge behind the why of a thing.

Released from confinement of bed rest just this morning and still healing from a bullet to the back. Stitches still raw and new the boy had his own way of dealing with doctors' orders; ignore them and do what he damn well pleased.

Well that would not do with his 'older, wiser' brother, Master Johnny Lancer was about to find out what family was all about, period.

Brought to an abrupt stop in a swirl of dust kicked up by the sliding hooves of the palomino in front of him, Scott flapped his soft leather gloves to dispel the fine grain dirt.

Hat held on by the strings around his neck Johnny leaned down, "hey Boston, you look done in. Don't look too picture perfect now."

Scott looked up into the grinning face of the younger man, "I would not call the kettle black 'little brother', if Murdoch sees you out here on that horse there will be hell to pay."

Johnny patted the neck of the sweating horse and crooning a singsong appreciation in Spanish, he delayed his dismount. Truth of the story is he didn't think he could get down on his own.

Hiding a quick glance to the tall blond-haired man below him, Johnny Madrid Lancer was in a pickle, one he wasn't sure how to handle without giving himself away, and showing just how stupid he was at disobeying the doctors' orders and doing thing's Johnny Madrid's way.

Scott looked critically at his brother, even under the sun-tanned skin; he could see the pallor that betrayed the younger man's obvious pain and distress.

With a quirk to his lips and a shine in his slate blue eyes Scott took the cheek strap of his brother's horse and began to lead the gelding into the barn, "let's get your horse unsaddled and you taken care of 'little brother'."

Johnny just nodded, too tired to answer, and too tired to do anything about his 'big' brother 'taking charge'. Maybe just this once he would let the older man play at 'calling the tune'."

The inside of the barn was cooler and darker and there was no one around. As Scott came around the left side, he tapped the boy's thigh, 'you ready to do this, brother?"

Barely having the strength to nod Johnny looked down, "gracias." 'Thank you', words Johnny Madrid had no use for; it was not that he never used them, just not often.

There had never been much use for thank you in his line of work.

Get the job done, get paid and get out of town. His unspoken mantra and it had served him well until that day in Mexico as he knelt in the dirt ready to take his place in front of a ruale firing squad.

An unspoken 'thank you' to a father he didn't know followed by a sarcastic response as he was united with a brother he never knew about, one he was still unsure.

A change in the heart of the border town gunfighter had begun and to his dismay, he liked. Family was a word he had not thought about, in his line of 'work' if you wanted to live past twenty and Johnny Madrid wanted to live, there was no family.

Scott grabbed hold of his brother's gun belt as the younger man made a wobbly dismount, not at all like the exuberant mount and dismount Johnny had perfected, "alright then just take it easy, there you are both feet on the ground and still standing."

Johnny still holding onto the pommel nodded once, "boots on the ground, but standin'," with a slight grin, "not for long Boston."

Scott felt the full weight of his brother lean against him. At a scuff to his right, "Ah Cipriano, would you be ever so kind and take care of Barranca as I escort my wayward brother up to his room?"

The Lancer Segundo took the reins, "Si senor Scott, your brother needs the firm hand of an older brother to guide his way."

Johnny's sapphire eyes glared daggers at the older Mexican and pushed away from Scott's strong embrace, "don't need no help, I can make it."

Scott folded his arms across his chest and smiled at his loose as a goose brother who swayed like a willow tree, "as you wish little brother. I caught you before, I suppose this 'older, wiser' brother can do it again."

A weak 'phfft' came from the younger man's lips throwing up one hand and pushing away from the horse, "never needed anyone ta help me before."

With a clearing of his throat Scott addressed his 'little' brother, "that may have been then, but circumstances have changed and for all intense and purposes you are forever connected to a family who will be there for you from now on."

Johnny halted his staggering stride as he turned towards the hacienda. Family, something he hadn't thought about in years. With a heartfelt sigh, he dipped his head as silent thoughts passed through his feverish brow.

After his mother had died, family was an orphanage, a foster family who needed free help, or a band of thrown away kids running the streets as free and feral as alley cats.

He had often wondered about 'family' why he didn't have one, why from that special circle he found himself banned. Many nights he would gaze up into the star-studded sky and contented himself with the thought that all those stars belonged to him and they were as much family as any living, breathing thing.

Now he had a living, breathing 'family' and they cared, really cared about him. Had his years of being alone jaded him to what family meant. No, he didn't think so he felt for these people, he hid the contentment of the fussing, coddling heaped upon him, and he liked it.

Grabbing hold of the top of the stall Johnny nodded once, "if you're still intent on helpin' could ya... ah…"

At the hesitant request and the obvious wavering of his brother Scott quickly stepped forward, "you have only to ask brother."

Johnny felt the strong arms of his brother envelope his shaking, soon to be on the floor body, "gracias," there he had said it again, 'Dios'.

Cipriano smiled as he addressed and patted the strong neck of the palomino, "your amigo, he needs his brother now. However, do not worry the boy will be with you again soon enough. Come fresh hay and grain, fit for a king awaits you."

The golden horse nodded his head up and down as if in agreement with the Segundo, with an unfamiliar chuckle the man led the horse to his rest.

Just as the 'older, wiser' big brother led the hardheaded, 'do it myself' little brother to his own rest, hopefully before the patriarch of the Lancer clan discovered the younger son in his unacceptable situation.

The furtive glances around the compound confirmed that Murdoch Lancer was nowhere in sight.

Scott hefted Johnny a bit higher onto his shoulders and puffed out, "you may look like a light-weight little brother, but I can tell you in truth you are far from it."

Johnny would have spouted a jibe back but he was too tired to lift his head, and his throat was as dry as the desert. Neither son saw the movement at the window of the hacienda.

 **Just Plain Tired**

Murdoch Lancer wiped a hand down his face, shifted his hands to his hips and stared at his sons as they made their way towards the kitchen of the hacienda, then smiled.

How long had he waited to see such a sight, he had imagined just such shenanigans in his head, had prayed to heaven for the chance to see this display of brotherly love.

As his arms crossed his chest his face took on a scowl, how could his younger son disregard explicit instructions, put his own welfare in jeopardy, and try the patience of a saint.

Lips drawing up into a smile his thoughts turning to the past, would this have been the day-to-day life at Lancer if Johnny's mother had not taken him away?

A light footfall behind him had the Lancer Patron turn.

Softly walking towards him was his ward, Teresa. As she approached, her lips turned up into a smile, "So you have seen them. Scott was trying to get Johnny upstairs before you became the wiser. Where were you when I came in, I called your name."

Murdoch considered the orphan daughter of his best friend as his own. Paul died helping to defend what was Lancer's, Teresa having been born on Lancer was family.

"Just a little wool-gathering darling," the big man opened his arms and the young woman slipped under the protective strength.

Laying a small hand on her guardian's chest, "you were somewhere in the past. Don't be too hard on Johnny; he's got a lot to sort through."

Taking her small hands in his large calloused hands, he placed a gentle kiss on her fingertips, "Johnny has a lot to learn, I'd like to give him time, but we don't have that luxury. Pardee hurt us very badly and both my sons are needed to get us right again."

Taking a step back, hands still held by Murdoch, Teresa looked up into his face. It was a good face, handsome, strong, and so familiar to her, like a second father, "He didn't have Scott's upbringing or chances in life. Oh, it's not your fault. Daddy said, 'you make out of life what God sets out before you' all I am saying is give him the chance to prove to you he is Johnny Lancer."

Murdoch nodded and sighed, "You, my darling, are so much like your father."

The young woman, tears forming in her brown doe like eyes, "Daddy will be missed, but I have a family and I have Lancer. We will both be alright."

 **Set Backs**

Johnny peeked from under half closed eyes, peeked what a word for Johnny Madrid to use but peeked he did. The large form that was his father stood looking out his bedroom window, his bedroom window, and wasn't that a kick in his head, he, Johnny Madrid, a bedroom all to himself in a grand hacienda on an even grander estancia.

"Go on and say it," Johnny started in his bed as his father turned, equally startled by his supposedly sleeping son. If possible, the younger man would have run back the way he had come. His father scared him.

Taking a step towards the bed the older man crossed his arms over his chest, "can you tell me why you disobeyed the doctor's orders and mine to go traipsing all over creation."

Johnny sighed; he was tired, bone-tired of buttin' heads with his Ol' Man. Would they never see eye to eye on anything? He had told the man who sired him that Johnny Madrid didn't take orders too good thought for himself and took the consequences alone.

Plucking at the coverlet, "tol' ya before, don't take orders too good."

Murdoch stood over his younger son; the pallor under the sun kissed skin distressed the father in him. According to Sam Jenkins, physician and family friend the boy would be laid up for another week, two on the outside. He needed the boy fit to begin learning the ranching business.

Running a work-hardened hand down his granite face the patron of Lancer sighed, "due to your recklessness and disregard to prescribed orders someone else will have to be drawn off another job to handle yours."

Johnny's sapphire eyes glinted in controlled anger, his lips pulled tight into a thin line, "well that's it then."

Throwing up his arms, "Ya only needed me ta rope a cow or clean a ditch or," with a grimace as his unwise action pulled the stitches in his back, "or pull my gun. Guess 'partner' means sumthin' different ta different people."

Murdoch wanted to apologize to his son as pain crossed the boy's face… but he could not show weakness to this boy, his son, "you have to earn the right to run this ranch, you have to get to know the people who work here who depend on Lancer to feed their family. You have to put aside your past."

Tiling his head Johnny looked up from under a fringe of raven black hair, "well ta me tha past is part of me."

Murdoch pulled up a chair beside the bed and tiredly sat; his back aching and his temper on the verge of erupting into a litany of scathing remarks about the past, present and future.

Instead, the father leaned forward towards his stubborn younger son, "John, I do not want to sound cold or uncaring, but Lancer is a big spread with many people relying on its success for their very lives. You and Scott will inherit everything I have built; you both will one day share the good and the bad."

Johnny looked at his father eye to eye, "I ain't no kid Murdoch, and I understand what this estancia means to every hand out there and what it means to me an' Scott."

Murdoch stared into the eyes of his son, how he had longed for this very moment. Remembrances from the past of his dark-haired toddler staring across the big oak desk with silent pleading blue eyes for a reprieve from the big chair in which his mother had placed him for a 'time out'.

Murdoch relented then and he would relent now, "I know you are no longer a child, son, but you didn't have the chance to grow up here to learn about the running of a large spread like Lancer. I want to be able to show you, to…"

"Call tha tune Ol' Man," the sarcastic tone of voice had Murdoch clench his hand, "yeah thought so."

Johnny nodded to the fist his father made; if he had been standing, he was sure his legs would have been shaking. This man scared him and he hadn't been scared of any man since he was a small child unable to defend himself, "I'm kinda tired," Johnny, sighed and turned his back to his father, session closed.

Murdoch had to relax, to gather his scattered thoughts, to be a concerned father, "alright son, consequences for our actions can return to us ten-fold."

Johnny closed his eyes as he heard the heavy foot falls of his father leave the room, "Dios, why can't I even talk to tha man before we butt heads. What's wrong with me?"

"Nothing a good brother to brother talk wouldn't cure," the soft voice and soft footfalls told Johnny his 'brother' had entered the room.

The chair creaked as Scott sat beside his brothers bed. The boy had turned away from the doorway, a sure sign his 'little' brother did not wish to talk, well too bad.

"I can sit here all day little brother. During the war there were many instances where a soldier had to 'wait' an indeterminate amount of time until an order came down."

Johnny shifted releasing a grunt as his back encountered the mattress, "anyone ever tell ya… oh never mind don't seem ta be able ta tell ya anything Mr. Harvard graduate."

Scott crossed his legs and smiled down at his brother, "no need to get, let me see if I have this right, get your drawers in a bunch."

With a chuckle Johnny looked at his brother, "it'll do Boston."

Scott critically eyed his brother; the strain of the 'little' ride this afternoon had taken its toll. The younger man looked about to pass out on him, "you alright?"

"I'm fine," was the snapped reply. The silence between the newfound brothers was palpable in the air.

An almost inaudible sigh escaped the bed-ridden man, "Lo siento mi hermano."

Scott smiled as he leaned forward, "that may have been the first time you acknowledged our relationship."

With a grin that lit up the younger man's face, a tilt of his head, "didn't know ya spoke Spanish."

"I am very quick on my feet, if I want to survive out here I need to add Spanish to my extended languages," Scott shot back.

"You stick with me Boston I'll have ya talkin' like a native." Johnny shifted and the color drained from his face.

Making a move to pull the sheet up to his brothers chin Scott sat back with a huff as his hands were slapped away, "alright do it yourself. One day little brother you'll ask for my help, again."

"Phttt, ain't needed no help since I was a kid," Johnny lay back keeping a watchful eye on this Boston dandy. He had learned that this was no Dandy, albeit the hard way, then Johnny Madrid always learned the hard way.

This fair-haired gringo had shown his sand, he was a man to be reckoned with and he was his big brother.

Dios how he had wanted a brother for so long… momma had never said he had a brother; she made it sound like he was alone.

Rubbing a hand down his face a deep heart felt sigh escaped the lips of the hardened gunfighter, "hey Boston, did I ever thank you for haulin' my carcass up these stairs, that day?"

Scott smiled, sitting back he crossed his arms over his chest, "I remember you said 'that was good shootin'' you then proceeded to walk under your own steam and collapsed from loss of blood. But, to answer your question, you did not say 'thank you'."

Johnny bowed his head and plucked at the sheet, "well it don't come easy ta me. I can't be beholdin' ta anyone, but you saved my life. Ol' Pardee's bullet had me dead to rights, gracias."

"It's what family does, little brother," Scott turned his head as the door to the bedroom opened and Murdoch Lancer, Patron, Partner, Father walked in.

Noticing the rather large cup in the man's hand, "ah, I see Ms. Teresa has sent her wonderful medicinal 'tea' up."

Murdoch nodded as he came further into the room of his younger son, "I had Maria stir a spoonful of honey in it, believe me it helps a lot."

Johnny ducked his head; he didn't want this stranger, this father to see him smile. It felt good to have someone coddle, fuss, and make a nuisance of themselves, but until he knew this so-called family, he would have to take control.

Keep them at arm's length; he had been hurt too many times before. The thought of losing something that was within his grasp scared him.

He glanced up at his father as the cup appeared under his nose. Blue eyes locked, unable to look away Johnny placed both hands around the large cup, "what T'resa ain't got no small cups? Dios I swallow all this an' I'll be floatin'."

Scott shifted in the chair, "I have been told this is the correct amount to cure any malaise that you may have contracted."

"It is also good to remind you not to get sick," Teresa swept into the room a stack of clean, folded clothes in her arms, "Maria wanted me to remind you also if you insist on getting shot at, getting into fights or falling off your horse she will no longer mend any rips, tears, or stains."

Johnny smiled over his cup of medicinal tea, the honey did make it go down better, "whoa mi hermana take a breath, my head's already spinnin'."

Placing the clothing in the appropriate drawers the young woman turned and placed hands on slim hips, "well that tea is good for that too."

Johnny smiled over his cup of tea, Scott sat back in his chair and folded his arms across his chest and did the polite thing by clearing his throat while Murdoch's face lost the chiseled hardness of granite and broke into a full smile.

With grace and swiftness Teresa, the self-appointed 'sister' to the Lancer sons, began to pick up discarded clothing, "Maria is going to have a fit, she just cleaned this shirt yesterday and now look stained with, dirt, horse slobber and blood. Doc Jenkins will not be happy."

Johnny handed the empty cup to his brother and was amazed at the young woman's energy; she made him tired just watching her, "just leave it T'resa. I'll dust my duds off in tha mornin'. One day ain't gonna make a difference ta Barranca."

"And you mi hijo think that horse of yours will be seeing you tomorrow," Murdoch stood over the bed and his younger son.

Johnny settled back against the headboard and glared at his father, "yeah I think so Ol' Man. You can call tha tune when I'm workin' tha ranch, but my time is my own."

Scott cleared his throat as he motioned for Teresa to leave the room. Sighed heavily as the girl refused to move and the standoff between brother and father continued, "It might be a good idea to let Johnny get some rest. Teresa if you would be so kind and finish what it is you are doing and… ah… sir if…."

Murdoch glanced away from his younger son to lock onto the lighter blue eyes of his elder son, "your brother needs to understand I am not doing this to 'call the tune' I am doing this for his health."

Johnny snorted and shifted in bed, "never needed no one ta coddle me when I was growin' up, I know what I can and can't do. Don't need no one ta hold my hand."

Scott stood beside their father, a united front against the stubborn younger man, "that may be so 'little' brother but how fortunate you are to have a father and a brother…"

"And a sister," Teresa spoke up beside Scott determination on the young face and love in her brown doe eyes.

Scott nodded to the woman, "and a sister. So you may as well just lay back and accept the situation, because we are not going to give an inch when it comes to your health."

Johnny looked from one face to the next, stubborn all of 'em. Throwing up his hands in surrender, "ya'll are too much…you don't even know me, what all I've done. I..."

His voice wavered as he bowed his head and plucked at the sheet, "well…in my line of work people who get close ta me usually end up gettin' shot at or worse. I just need some time ta…"

Scott left his father's side and approached the bed, "time you will have. Doctor Jenkins will be arriving shortly and will give us his educated opinion as to 'time."

"Daddy always cautioned me about consequence, this foolhardy ride while I am sure was enjoyable at the moment has now become very uncomfortable," Teresa moved up beside Scott and smiled down at the repentant younger Lancer son.

Johnny did have the good manners not to really tell this snip of a woman his thoughts about consequences, hell he had been paying for just breathin' for years on his own.

Looking up at his 'big' brother, his grin conveyed exactly what he wanted tell Scott about 'time'. Time was something he never really had a lot of, not in his line of work.

You lived for the day and time and consequences be damned.

Murdoch placed a large hand on Scotts shoulder and applied the other to rest on his wards, "I think we have let Johnny know how we all feel about his 'ride' and disregard to his family's feelings."

Johnny's head snapped up, "now wait a dam… ah darn minute…"

"Ah I see my patient still has plenty of sass left in him," Sam Jenkins, M.D. walked in the door of the 'patients' room and placed his black bag on the side table, "I have something in here that will fix that right up."

As the doctor fumbled with the clasp on his bag, "Murdoch, Scott, Teresa if you will all be so kind as to leave the room I will commence with the examination to see how much damage this idiot has done to my hard work."

Johnny crossed his arms over his chest in defiance, his blue eyes glaring daggers of ice straight at the doctor even though his back screamed in pain.

Murdoch wanted to stay, this was his boy he had the right, however the glance from his old friend had the big man step back, "Scott, Teresa let Sam have the room."

Scott hesitated, the countenance of the doctor told him this was not going to be pretty, but the 'big brother' in him wanted to stay and protect his 'little brother', "I'll go make sure the hands have taken care of Sam's horse and buggy."

Teresa bit her bottom lip, she knew Doc was a kind and gentle soul, but she had also heard the reprimand the doctor had delivered to her guardian when he was laid up in bed with a bullet in his back, "I'll make sure Maria has hot coffee and help with supper. You will be staying for supper Doctor?"

Sam Jenkins looked up from wiping his hands on the clean towel, "thank you dear I think I will," with a glance to the men of Lancer. "now out with you all. Master John Lancer and I have a lot to 'discuss'."

It only took a second for the room to clear, as Murdoch closed the door, he could hear his friend begin the lecture to his younger son, "good luck son," he murmured.

 **A Good Kind of Tired**

Tossing his saddle on the top rail of the corral Scott looked up at the sound of pounding hooves.

There he was his little brother and that magnificent palomino; it was as if life forged them together. Quirking a grin he saw his father exit the hacienda and approach the corral.

"First day back to full duty, you would think he would take it slow like most," Murdoch mumbled as he stood looking at his younger son ride into the compound.

Scott nodded, "and most men would, but our exuberant, stubborn younger Lancer is not most men."

Johnny jumped from the horse before it had time to properly stop, he grinned at his family as he took his hat off and dusted his shirt and pants, "Whooee I can tell ya it is good ta get back out there… never seen so many needy cows in my life. They can't walk from one pasture ta tha other without one of 'em getting tangled in brush or wire."

Murdoch took in the flushed cheeks under the tanned skin, the sweat beading on his son's forehead and the dust settling around them all, "I would hope you did not over do today. It is your first day back to regular duties."

Johnny tapped Scotts flat stomach with the back of his hand, "nope, even got ta sit an' watch Scott clear a stream."

Scott began undoing the tack from the palomino, "yes and thank you so much for all your help."

Rubbing a finger down his nose Johnny glanced over at his father, "just following orders,"

Scott snorted ungentlemanly, "in a pigs' eye."

Johnny grinned turning towards his brother, "Yeah I was. Doc Sam, Teresa, Cipriano, Maria, and tha Tune Caller told me not to overdo it. So I was just takin' a break."

Scott patted the shoulder of his brothers mount, "and this wild ride across the pasture?"

Johnny pulled on the reins as the palomino moved behind his rider towards the paddock gate, "well I know one of them rules our father laid down was supper at seven sharp, so here it is six an' I gotta clean up cause Maria won't let me in tha hacienda all covered in dirt. Not ta mention Cip sent me home early cause he said I looked tired and Miss T'resa said I gotta have clean duds on when I come to tha table."

Scott smiled as he came to stand beside his father, "and we all know how well you follow orders."

Johnny, taking the halter from his horses head, gave the animal a slap to his rump, "go on boy ya earned a roll in tha dirt. After supper I'll get ya settled for bed."

Turning back to face his brother and father Johnny grinned as he sauntered through the gate, turning and hooking the latch.

Johnny walked slowly the short distance to his family. It felt so good to be back in the saddle, good to be physically tired and not bone tired inside and out….this family thing might be alright, "well tha time I spent up in that bed of mine got me ta thinkin' it might not be too bad an idea ta follow 'some' rules."

Scott placed a hand over his heart, "did I just hear you right."

Murdoch smiled, "you heard what I heard Scott."

Holding up a hand the younger Lancer son stopped in his tracks, "I did say 'some' rules. I still don't think once I'm off Lancer land you can call tha tune ta what I do."

Murdoch would consider when to call the tune, "We can discuss what tune a partner calls, and what tune a father calls."

Scott could see the storm clouds gather around his brother, "I know grandfather laid out rules for me to follow as I was growing up in his house. Following them gave me a sense of belonging and knowing he loved me."

The fire in the blue eyes cooled as they turned away from his family, with a hitch to his one shoulder Johnny grinned, "well that's just it ain't it. All this is still hard ta take in, belonging, family a home."

Scott stepped up and threw an arm over his brothers' shoulder, "well get used to it 'brother' I plan on having you around for quite some time."

Johnny chuckled as he backhanded a gentle slap to Scott's stomach, "yeah. Well you just remember I am the younger Lancer an' well you bein' 'older and wiser' ya get ta teach me somthin' I don't know."

Scott clasp his brother's shoulder harder, "are you telling me there is something I can teach you. The 'I can do it myself,' little brother."

Johnny disengaged himself from Scott, turned as he walk ahead of the long arms of his brother and grinned, "Well that is 'if' there is somthin' ta teach me I don't know about."

Murdoch held back a chuckle himself as he listened to the bantering between his sons, "well mi hijo if your 'big' brother cannot find something to teach you, be well aware I know a lot more than either of you."

Johnny gave his brother a cheeky grin then turned it onto his father, "ya know Ol' Man I think you may be right."

Moving at a faster walk that was well ahead of his brother and father he turned around once. Walking backwards, he threw back at the two older men, "course teachin' and tune callin' are two different things."

Murdoch broke a smile, "either one hijo will find you in the barn going to church with my belt if you continue this tirada."

Johnny's smile faltered, when Murdoch Lancer started throwing out Spanish words, the Ol' Man was getting serious, a whumpin' in the barn that was a good one.

He had been whupped before, but never out of love. He had to admit it felt good to have someone care enough to teach him and dance to a new tune.

However, he was also Johnny Madrid, legend of the border towns, fast with a six-gun and master of his own destiny and he didn't follow orders, unless he agreed to tha tune.

With a grin that could light the darkest night, Johnny saluted his father and brother, "well better get cleaned up my stomach feels like it's fightin' with my back bone. Seven o'clock sharp, or go without."

Scott chuckled at his brother as Murdoch ran a hand down his face.

The elder Lancer released a heart-felt sigh, as Scott patted his father on the shoulder, "it was you who sent for us and gave up one thousand dollars listening money. Well sir may you reap what you have sown."

Scott continued his walk to the hacienda as Murdoch stopped, gazing at the two young men who meant more to him than every cow, horse, and blade of grass on Lancer.

The gnawing pain deep in his soul was abating, he never felt as alive as he did now.

Lancer was safe his sons were home and he thanked God every day. He looked up at his younger sons' laughter and with a contented smile on his face followed his sons.

solista

June 2015


End file.
